Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
When we get back from the drive, I fight my instincts to step in and watch as Tinsley negotiates with the seller. A little while later, they’ve agreed on a price and have set up a meeting for Monday to close the deal at a bank in downtown Houston.
The drive back is quieter than the morning. I steer onto the interstate and let the engine settle into a low, steady growl. Tinsley sits with one knee pulled up on the seat, head tipped against the window. The sun pours through the windshield in molten streaks, painting everything in Texas gold.
It’s close to dusk by the time the first low buildings of Silver Spoon Falls show up in the distance. The horizon glows with the last hard light of the day, and for once, I wish the road would stretch out longer.
I tap the turn signal, even though the exit is miles off. “You hungry?”
She glances over. “Starving. Why?”
I keep my eyes on the road. “I was thinking we could get some dinner.”
She doesn’t answer right away. She watches the fence posts blur past for a few beats. “Dinner sounds great.”
I want to fist bump the air, but I manage to hold myself back. The corners of my mouth turn up as I take the exit, the truck humming down toward the lights of town.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TINSLEY
Hudson pulls up outside the 5th Avenue Diner and parks the truck. Before I’ve finished unbuckling my seatbelt, he hops out and rushes around the truck to open my door. I give him a look, but he just grins and waits for me to climb down, his hand steady and warm on my elbow.
“You eat here often?” I ask, trying to keep the skepticism out of my voice. The last thing I want is to come off as a snob, but I haven’t set foot in a real diner since middle school.
“Absolutely,” Hudson says, not missing a beat. He’s already moving for the glass door, holding my hand. “This place has the best food in town. Trust me.”
Inside, the place is a nostalgia bomb. The walls are covered with old Coca-Cola signs and photos of rock stars from the seventies and eighties. There’s a black-and-white checkerboard tile under my feet that looks so clean I could eat off it. Red vinyl booths line the room, glossy and bright. Each one is trimmed in chrome. The waitress behind the counter looks up and smiles at us. “Have a seat anywhere you like.”
Hudson steers me toward a booth in the back. He slides into the seat across and stretches his legs under the table. The table’s got a mini jukebox on it, glittering in the neon light, and a laminated menu covered in pictures of giant cheeseburgers. There’s a glass pie case on the counter filled with mile-high cakes and slices of peanut butter pie.
“So, this is your scene,” I say, studying the menu. “I figured you’d go for something a little more… white tablecloth.”
Hudson glances over at me and winks. “This place has the best burgers in town. No contest.”
The waitress comes by, pen poised, and we order the same thing, two 5th Avenue burgers, two orders of fries, and two strawberry shakes.
I can’t help myself; I watch him as he stretches an arm over the top of the booth, the line of his shoulders filling the whole frame. He looks relaxed, but there’s a kind of charge under the surface. Like a coil waiting for the right moment to spring.
“So,” he says after a minute, “what’s your story, Tinsley Essen?”
I laugh, because it’s so obvious he’s been dying to ask that since the moment we met. “What, you didn’t have your private investigator dig up my entire life history already?”
He leans forward, lowering his voice. “I did, actually. But I want to know the real you.”
I trace the rim of my water glass with one thumbnail, feeling the smooth resistance. “It’s not that interesting.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just watches me, all quiet patience.
“My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a toddler, and I ended up in foster care.” It really isn’t a pretty story, and I really hate talking about it.
Hudson cocks his head, watching me like I’m a tricky horse he’s trying to break. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him as the waitress brings our shakes to the table. I take a sip, and it’s the best thing I’ve tasted in years. The cold sugar hits my nerves and takes the edge off the stressful day.
“Why did you choose Silver Spoon Falls?” Hudson asks.
“Entry level jobs in finance are hard to find, and the job at Montoya Investments was too good to pass up.” I stare out the window, watching headlights streak past on Main.